the last straw
by thatonereaper
Summary: Kind of a sucky name. Sorry. This is about a WW2 American soldier who is left for dead when his regiment dies. His target is to go to France, the closest ally land there is. But when he gets picked up by a wagon of escaping Jews he is forced to help protect them and the man who saved him. Hope you like it, sorry if you don't, please read and give it a chance.
1. Chapter 1

Bullets rang from above and whizzed overhead. Somewhere over to the right another man was shot down. Damn, how many did that make? A young man by the name of Matthew Scott was knelt down in the trenches, rifle lined up as he let loose another round. There was another shot but this time the young brunette felt a force go through his left shoulder. When he looked down it felt as if everything went into slow motion. In his uniform he found a hole, but it didn't stop there, the hole traveled all the way through his shoulder, blood trickling out of the wound. Next came the pain. He cried out and dropped down further into the ditch, rifle hanging to him by the strap. As he writhed in pain he managed with shaky hands to take the roll of cloth out of his pocket and stuff the hole, slowing the blood flow. Then, everything went black.

Who knows how long it was until he woke again. All Matthew knew, is that everywhere he looked, he saw death. Everyone. Dead. He stood there in the waist deep trench, clutching his shoulder, looking around in shock. They were all gone. Dead and gone. He just couldn't comprehend it. He pulled himself out of the trench and wandered through the battlefield. He couldn't stay here. If he wasn't dead now he soon would be. France. He had to make it to France. That was his only hope now. So he began, walking through the lightly snow dusted, bloody ground and to, what he thought, was northwest. Three days. That's how far he traveled without rest. That's the furthest he could go without stopping for sleep. "Sleep is for the weak" Matthew murmured to himself as he trudged on through the wooded area. But, alas, everyone needs sleep, even Matt, so, he chose a thick area of trees, and curled up, silently praying to an unknown God that he would wake in the morn.

When Matthew woke, he did so with a jump. Litterlally. He tilted his head to get a view of where he was, he was about to open his mouth to speak when a woman next to him pressed a finger to her lips. The American remained silent under the burlap material that covered him and perhaps twenty others. From the other side of the burlap he heard voices,both speaking a language that he only assumed to be German. He ran his gloved fingers over the smooth wood of his gun, the indent of bullet that went through his shoulder giving him an odd sense of comfort. The conversation outside ended and the cart they were in gave a sudden jolt. A few minutes in the cover to the cart flew back giving him the first clear view of the driver, a man maybe his age with blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail and cloudy green eyes.

(And That's where I'm going to end it for this chapter. I hope you guys like it so far and want to further read it. With love- A)


	2. Chapter 2

The man stared hard at Matthew, trying to determine friend or foe. When he finally decided he could trust the man he spoke. "Name". Matt was only mildly shocked at the fact that the other spoke English "Matthew Jones" He finally responded. "Lucas Troy" He said holding out a hand, although not to shake. When Matt grabbed Lucas' hand he was hauled up front and thrusted a threadbare coat. "You have a gun, you help protect" The brunette gave a short nod before throwing on the coat, covering the American flag on his right arm.

The journey continued on with little more interruptions but, the cold weather only got colder. Seeing their breath in the air, they simply huddled closer together and carried on down the bumpy dirt paths in the cart. They never slowed their travel. The just continued on. Freezing, sick, and hungry, but they carried on. When they found themselves in the black of night the group stopped for a moment of rest and regrouping. Matthew looked at his fingers and bent them. The red digits were now wrapped in cloth to keep the little bit of warmth they still held. Everyone stopped what they were doing and became silent when a faint growl could be heard over the chatter and the howling of the wind. They all silently looked at eachother, soon beginning to whisper things such as "Did you hear that?" "Was that you?" and "What was that?" When another growl was heard this time much closer, Lucas began to take precautions "Everyone, back up in the cart!" He barked, but it was too late. Two glowing yellow eyes followed their movements through the dark. Another set joined, then another. Then came the attack. Several black wolves jumped forward, snapping powerful jaws, large teeth bared in nasty snarls. Gun shots rang as Matthew shot at the creatures, Screams of the children flooded the air as parents heard them together and put them into the cart. Two guns, two men fighting, and six more wolves. After what seemed like hours the remaining three just left. The crowd of people got back down to collect what remained of the few items they brought with them. Among the sea of people, Matt noticed a little boy picking a group of wildflowers. The man walked over to the boy and knelt beside him "What are those for?" He asked. The little boy responded with an answer that he didn't expect "For Lucas's funeral"


End file.
